Lord William Suffield was sailing to America with his new wife and her maid. But
when their ship is taken by a crew of all-female pirates, he finds himself their
unwilling captive. Who is Captain Grace O'Leary? And what does she have planned for
him? Now William, his wife Constance, and their maid Molly are all sailing on the
"Tides of Lust!"
~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~
Grace watched as a riot of emotions chased themselves across William’s face.
Confusion, understanding, a bright surge of hope, an answering darkness as he shook
“I am married, my lady captain,” he said, taking refuge in formality.
Damn the man! Why did he have to be so…so honorable?
She would not, would not beg, she swore to herself. “True.” She backed away
and leaned against a bulkhead, crossing her arms under her breasts, using the motion
to lift them slightly. Her lip twitched as she caught William noticing. “But do you
wish to go to her bed, as her husband, with this hanging over your head?
“One night, William. I offer nothing more. And nothing less.
“You say she is cold to you. I am not. I am not like my sisters. I am not drawn
to them. I want…” Their eyes locked suddenly, sea-gray meeting his dark blue, like
the twilight sky in the last moments before true night fell. “I want a man. I want
to feel him inside me. I want hard muscles and strong arms and legs and a long, thick
cock I can ride.”
She watched him lift the glass to his lips, swallowing the last of the whiskey.
Slowly, he rose to his feet and set the glass aside, and she despaired, sure he was
about to leave.
In two long strides, he was next to her. She gasped as she felt his arms close
around her, holding her tight. She felt his head nestle against her hair, and she
returned his embrace, knowing without being told his need for simple human comfort.
When they parted, his eyes were shining in the lamplight. “So,” he murmured.
“How do you want to do this?”
“I want to make love to you,” she answered. She held up her hand as he tried
to speak. “Not with you. To you.
“Stand over there,” she said, using her chin to point at the curtained alcove
where her bunk lay. “Very good,” she smiled as he obeyed her order. She followed,
looking up at him, admiring his well-made body. Even as she did, she could feel her
pulse begin race excitedly, her body preparing itself for love.
Seven weeks. Seven weeks since they had left port. Seven weeks since she’d
had a man. Touching herself until she gained release was not nearly enough, and even
if she had been like some of the other women on the ship, who did not blink at taking
female lovers, doing so would have undermined her authority.
“What-“ but she cut him off.
“I am making love to you,” she repeated. She stepped closer, running her hands
over the fine cloth of his shirt, feeling the strong muscles underneath. For once
she was glad William was not dressed in his customary finery. He looked very well
in the clothes of a lord, but getting him out of them…